In Pieces
by ZacDOnocai
Summary: If there was one thing Shane Anderson never wanted to see, this was it - the love of his life only barely alive. Rane.
1. Room 107

**Just a short, sad Rane drabble I wrote in one of my free periods at school. Constructive criticism is appreciated, so please review! :)**

**Reed and Shane, as well as the entirety of _Dalton_, belong to CP Coulter.**  
><strong>Blaine Anderson and Glee belong to Ryan MurphyFOX. **

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><p>Shane seemed to materialise at the doorway. The white linoleum floor squeaked under his feet as he ran to his brother, who was seated and waiting in silence.<p>

"What happened? Where is he? Is he okay? Will he live? Is he even _alive_?" Shane spoke with all the urgency he could, as though the world would end if he were slower. He trembled with every word. "I need to see him!"

"Calm down, Shane," Blaine rested his hands firmly on his brother's shoulders, pulling him down to sit beside him. "He's okay. He's alive. But there are... complications."

Shane could nothing but stare. "Like what? I mean, what could have happened for there to be complications _aside_ from general injury?"

"Well, uh..." Blaine swallowed, "he fell down the grand staircase. You know. The one made of marble." He had to stop his own hands from shaking as he continued quietly, "He, um—well, on the way down, his, uh, leg got caught in the rail... twisted it all the way ar—"

"Stop. I can't..." Shane started. Tears already began to well in his eyes as he gazed down the pristine hallway. "J-just take me to see him. Please."

Silence.

Then, reluctantly, Blaine stood, Shane following suit. The walk down the hall to room 107 seemed to take an eternity. Trolleys of equipment were pushed past by nurses, a phone rang somewhere at reception, and sickly residents coughed and groaned from every room, but Shane barely noticed it. He was numb, and everything seemed to move in slow-motion.

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><p><em>105...<em>

_106..._

_107._

"Shane, let me warn you," Blaine sighed, "You aren't going to like what you see."

"I don't care. I need to be here for him."

His brother patted a hand on Shane's shoulder sympathetically. "I'll be right outside, okay?" Shane nodded once and quietly stepped into the room.

On the bed lay a tangled heap of bandages and strawberry curls – Reed. A heart monitor beeped slowly and steadily beside him, below the IV drip. His eyes were closed, and it barely looked like he was breathing. His right leg was raised, his left arm in a sling. Both were heavily bandaged and slightly bloodied. Reed's face was also badly bruised – he sported a black eye and a swollen jaw. Shane had to clap a hand over his own mouth and choke back a sob as the tears fell unwillingly, sliding down his cheeks. He could taste the salt. He cast his bleary eyes upward to a sign above the bed, which read:

_Van Kamp, Reed.  
>Admitted 17<em>_th__ May 2:37 P.M.  
><em>_Comatose._


	2. Morning

**Hi everyone! Thank you for all your support over the last couple weeks. I thought I would continue with In Pieces, as it seemed quite popular and did have potential to become a multi-chapter story. This will be my last update for a couple of weeks, as my Higher School Certificate begins in just under two days. I hope you enjoy this chapter in the meantime - it's something that has been floating around in my head for quite a while.**  
><strong>Please review - constructive criticism is appreciated. :)<strong>  
><strong>Enjoy! <strong>

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><p>By the time September had rolled around, Shane had become numb to that feeling. That feeling of dread, of worry, of sadness. He would watch over Reed, long day in and long day out. He hadn't even left his beside, unless it was absolutely necessary. He knew the nurses by name, and they all knew him. But the Shane they knew was a grief-stricken, terrified boy, who clung to any thread of hope he could find. Every two hours or so, when the doctors came in, he would stare up at them, almost pleading with them to somehow, perhaps magically, pull Reed out of his condition. But months passed, and nothing happened. Every week, Blaine stopped in to bring his brother another fresh set of clothes, and kept an eye on Reed while Shane changed. Not a day went by without a prayer, to any and every higher power Shane could think of, just to ask for Reed to come back.<p>

The young boy was pale and motionless as the monitors beeped far too slowly beside him. The once glossy and perfect strawberry curls on Reed's head were now matted and dry, and still, after all this time, he barely even looked alive. But although his hands were cold and clammy, Shane would fall asleep every night, exhausted from emotion, with his hand in Reed's.

Just in case.

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><p>A flutter of eyelashes.<p>

A deep breath.

Life.

Those chestnut eyes knew hospital rooms much too well, although this time, Reed couldn't quite remember how he'd ended up in one. Dim light flowed in from the windows, and, aside from his heart monitor, the room was peacefully silent. The first thing he noticed was a dull ache in his leg, and another in his arm – and he realised that they must have been broken. On the table at the end of the bed sat gifts from his friends and the Dalton cohort – bright sunflowers and balloons, probably from the Hanovers; dozens of little plush bears and dogs, a black one of which sported an emerald rosary around its neck, from the Windsors; and about five big boxes of coffee beans and, surprisingly, tea leaves, brought in by the Stuarts. Reed blinked, his eyes heavy, and glanced at the clock across the room.

_5:26 A.M._

The boy winced as a sharp pain shot across his forehead, and he sank further into the pillow, the sides cradling his injury. Outside, he heard footsteps in the hall, quiet speaking, and other patients' monitors beeping steadily. It wasn't long until a nurse poked her head in to check on Reed, and her eyes lit up happily. She silently glided over to his bedside, pulling from her pockets a small clipboard and a pen.

"Hi, Reed," she whispered gently, "you've been under for quite a while. How are you feeling?"

By this point, Reed had nearly forgotten how to speak. He smiled a little, and quietly responded.

"I'm okay." His voice was raspy and dry, even in a whisper, but he figured this was nothing to worry about. He was in hospital, after all – there were bigger issues to consider.

"Good, good," she smiled. "Any internal pain? Nausea?"

Reed considered it for a minute, as though he were looking for some kind of other injury.

"Just the main ones, really..." he sighed, "The head, the leg and the, uh, the arm."

"Is there much pain?

"Um, no, just an ache... although my head hurt a fair bit... just after I woke up."

"Alright, we'll give you a little extra morphine for that," the nurse scribbled at the clipboard, then looked back up. "Are you dizzy at all?"

Reed blinked a few times, then closed his eyes and nodded.

"Okay, well, try not to take too much in, alright? Just rest yourself and you should be fine in about an hour."

Reed smiled to the nurse. "Thank you."

"Any time," she whispered, and turned to leave quietly.

But as she did so, someone close by stirred, and Reed, surprised, turned to see who it was. Still asleep, Shane mumbled incoherently as he moved around in his unconscious state, only a few feet away from the bed, and Reed's eyes grew wide. As the nurse turned back, he looked at her again.

"How long has Shane been here?" he whispered, cautious as to not wake his visitor.

"Since you were admitted as comatose... over four months ago. He hasn't left." The nurse smiled fondly. "He's very dedicated, isn't he? I've never seen anything like it. You're very lucky."

Reed could do nothing but look at Shane, awestruck, as the nurse left without another word. Slowly and carefully, he reached out and took Shane's hand, which had fallen limply beside his leg. The room was calm and silent as the day outside slowly bloomed. As if on cue, Shane batted his lashes in wake, blinked a few times, and finally opened his eyes to see Reed - awake, alive and well – gazing warmly up at him as morning light spilled into the room.

Reed smiled gently as Shane's eyes brimmed with tears.

"Hi."


	3. Miracle

**I'm back! Thanks for all the positive feedback I've been receiving - it means a lot to know my writing is appreciated and enjoyed. So, during my big break between my second-last and final exam, here is a short and sweet chapter to keep the story moving. Constructive criticism and reviews are greatly welcome.**

**I do not own Glee, 'Dalton', or any songs I use from here on in. Credit to their rightful owners/artists.**

**Enjoy! **

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><p>The day that followed became a blur of smiling faces and celebration. Nearly the entirety of Dalton flooded the hospital after hearing the news, bringing well-wishes and plenty of hugs. The twins even brought party poppers and silly string, which inevitably created a huge mess for all the Windsors to clean up at the end of the long visit. Shane helped - with much amusement - to pick multicoloured streamers out of Reed's hair as the boys reluctantly said their goodbyes and left the two alone once more.<p>

For a moment, there was silence.

"Did you..." Shane sighed, speaking quietly, "...Did you see things? While you were out?"

Reed cocked his head to one side, a puzzled look on his face.

"Just curious," Shane shrugged.

"Well... I never saw scenarios... or full hallucinations..." Reed leaned back into the bed again and fiddled absently with the sheets. "I saw colours. I know – it sounds silly coming from an artist, right? – but I did. Mostly I just saw blank white in front of me, though. Other times, I saw yellows and oranges, maybe some blue - I'm not sure why, but when I saw them, they were mainly warm."

"Could you hear anything?"

"I think I could... but nothing major. I don't remember noises. Anything I heard didn't register, I guess. It probably just sounded like incoherent mumbling or something." Reed let out a slight laugh. "Considering for how long I was under, I'm surprised I can remember anything from it at all."

The air stilled. A solemn moment washed over the two boys as they sat together, unsure of what would come next.

"I..." Shane began, almost inaudibly, "...I really missed you."

Reed smiled warmly. "I know, you've told me a million times—"

"But I mean, I really, _really_ missed you. Like, 'can't sleep, can't eat, can't live without you' kind of missed you. I got so scared..."

"Shh," Reed cooed, placing a hand on Shane's knee. "I know. I'm sure somewhere in there I missed you just as much. But I'm here now, right?"

A gentle smile tugged at the corners of Shane's mouth, as he rested his hand on Reed's. "You're my very own miracle."

"And you're my guardian angel."

From the hall, a nurse carefully poked her head into the room. "Hi, boys. I think after all that commotion, it'd be a good time for a rest." She looked to Reed. "Is that alright?"

Reed nodded. "Of course... I'm always exhausted after seeing my friends," he grinned.

The nurse gave a light chuckle. "Well, I'm sure Shane here will look after you well," she smiled as she quietly departed. Reed pulled his bedcovers to his chin with his good arm, which proved to be a little difficult. Of course, it wasn't long until Shane offered his help, and the boy was promptly snug in the white cotton blankets.

"Thanks," Reed yawned as he fidgeted a little, letting his head sink into the pillow and closing his eyes. Shane quietly sat back down, unable to do anything but smile down at the boy, and just be grateful for life. The day's light was slowly seeping from the room, and the birds outside began their evening choir. There was peace. Shane, feeling something he had not known before, softly began to sing to Reed, who dozed as the moon showed its face in the growing night sky.

_Once there was a way  
>To get back homeward<br>Once there was a way  
>To get back home<em>

_Sleep, pretty darling, do not cry;  
>And I will sing a lullaby...<em>

Reed smiled slightly to himself, in his near-sleeping state, listening contentedly to the only one he could call his own. This boy truly loved him, and Reed knew it.

_Golden slumbers fill your eyes  
>Smiles awake you when you rise<br>Sleep, pretty darling, do not cry;  
>And I will sing a lullaby...<em>

_Once there was a way  
>To get back homeward<br>Once there was a way  
>To get back home<em>

In that moment, Shane understood the warmth he felt. It was affection, it was love, it was care; it was knowing that the one thing – nay, the one person – Shane's world would forever revolve around really loved him back. Reed really was Shane's very own miracle.

_Sleep, pretty darling, do not cry;  
>And I will sing a lullaby...<em>


End file.
